


Choosing a Champion

by hamstercheese7



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Character Study, Gen, Issho is the personification of a literal god, Justice, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, OPAdmiralsWeek2020, Original Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamstercheese7/pseuds/hamstercheese7
Summary: Day 1: Monster || Magic/Mythology AUIn the beginning he chose Wrath.To fix his mistake, he chose Thought.For stability, he chose Protection.Now what will he choose?Part of One Piece Admirals Week 2020
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: One Piece Admirals Week 2020





	Choosing a Champion

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the prompt Monster || Magic/Mythology AU for One Piece Admirals Week 2020!

Life was so quiet before the sun rose, as if it was holding its breath in anticipation. The wind gently blew through the field behind him, the stalks of wheat whispering in the cool air. The ancient and worn stone bench upon which he sat was cool to his touch, slightly damp from the night, smooth beneath his hands. He scraped his fingers along it, listening to the story of each bump, of each small crack, feeling the grain of the earth within it. How long ago, when both he and the stone were young, the deep heat and pressure of the earth had molded and formed it into something so unlike its current form. 

Molten, hot, angry, righteous of fury. A sigh escaped his lips, a pang of regret rippling through him. The world had been so very different then, choosing a champion had seemed so easy. Soon after his birth, his world began to change, leaving behind the forests and the plains, settling into a new way of being. A way of barter and trade, of harvest seasons and hearths. Leaving the simple ways of tribal life behind. 

Dawn arrived, bringing with it the sounds of horses, of houses waking, of wagons being loaded, the cries of children and chickens. Men and women began their treks past him, the dirt road beneath their feet not yet dry enough to kick up dust. None spared the old man on the old bench more than a cursory glance, too intent on the completion of their first tasks of the day.

He supposed that beginning world was his adolescence, one of transformation, tumultuous and wrathful. He had been determined to keep this new way of being on the path towards progress, looking back at his humble origins with contempt, scorn. And thus, he needed to adapt, to change. Gone were the days of simple justice, of banishment from the tribe, of simple egalitarianism. Now, he had needed to choose someone to represent him, to bear his mark. To be a paragon among men and uphold his will.

He had begun his search far to the north of where he now sat, but in a place that looked not so very different. His first Champion had been a man who could only see one way to be, a single path forward. He had been strong, fierce, unyielding, his Sakazuki. In the beginning, he thought he had picked well, Sakazuki upheld the name of Justice with an iron fist against those who harmed, those who took, those who turned their backs on Him. A Warrior.

Until the time came that he realized that his Champion saw his will as a weapon, a means of control, not as a shield. It was then that he decided to choose a name for himself, something to refer to himself beyond the ideal he embodied. He wouldn’t settle on a name for himself for many years to come.

“Good morning sir,” came a young voice as the first rush of morning tasks came to an end. A smile alighted itself on his scarred visage. Not many noticed him anymore. The morning sunlight was warm upon his weathered face, and he nodded in the direction of the voice. 

He’d met his second Champion far to the south, on a rainy night as he walked the streets, sadness in his heart. A sharp pang of despair over the fate of his second Champion made his shoulders slump. The wind picked up, bringing the sweet smell of grass, of the nearby forest, of the farm that surrounded him. A hawk flew overhead, its sharp cries piercing the early afternoon quiet. How peaceful a scene it must have looked.

Kuzan had been a good man, possessing just as much strength, as much conviction as his first Champion. But unlike Sakazuki, his goal was to uphold law, not maintain order. A Thinker. Unfortunately, he had not foreseen that two men of equal conviction but different goals would eventually come to clash. 

Thus, a great war broke out across the land, the first of its kind, each side crying his name in vain. It was then that he’d chosen the name Issho for himself.

The afternoon sun beat down, hot, the air drying around him. Dust rose from the horses that passed by, the wind was now a blessing, a brief respite from the heat. “Excuse me Sir, would you like my hat? The sun is very hot today,” came the voice of a young man to Issho’s left. The same voice from hours before if he wasn’t mistaken. He turned towards the voice, a smile on his face once more, and nodded. He could almost feel the young man’s grin in the air as he handed him his hat, and bid him good day before continuing on his way.

Issho wondered what the young man looked like for a moment. If he enjoyed the peace that sat across most of the land now, the war over. But not forgotten, no, a hard frown crossed his face. Never forgotten, no matter how much he wished he could never see the evils of it again, the images would never leave him. 

It was better to be blind than witness something so terrible once more.

As the world left its young adulthood, he searched for a new champion. Someone determined, but with warmth in their heart. A Protector. It had taken him many years, but eventually he found his third Champion in the West, on the dark streets of a difficult city. Wasn’t that strange, a city? My! How humanity had grown, from villages to towns to cities. Issho’s Third had been an angry little thing, but kind, preventing him from being swindled in a game of poker. The frown on his face creased into a soft smile, yes, Smoker had done well in his image. 

The sun began to fade, the crickets awakening, the sparrows and hawks settling down for the evening, the owls taking their place in the skies. The second rush of the day began, the sound of horses and tired footsteps, children coming home from school, the smells of meat and vegetables cooking filling the wind. Yet, still the blind old man on the bench faded to the background, unimportant, too many tasks yet to accomplish before darkness settled in. 

The land was peaceful now, protected, but the war was still so fresh. Still too fresh for him. Adulthood demanded that he find something else, something beyond just protection. He needed hope. Kindness. A Dreamer. So, he left his third champion to search once more, traveling the world over until he’d found himself here, on this ancient bench in the East.

“Excuse me, Sir, are you hungry?” came a now familiar voice. The young man was back. He turned towards him and nodded. He could smell the warm scent of a freshly cooked meal. It filled the air in shades of yellow and orange. The young man reached out towards him, the soft rustling of cloth, then young hands, though calloused from hard work, reached out to his and placed a warm handmade bowl in his hands. He shifted over to make space on the bench as the boy took a seat beside him. 

“Was it a peaceful day Sir?” asked the boy after a time. “Yes,” he said quietly, the sound of his voice nearly surprised him, it had been a long time since he had spoken. There was a smile in the boy’s voice as he said, “I am glad. I hope tomorrow is too.” Issho remained quiet, enjoying the companionable silence for a moment, before bringing the bowl to his lips. 

Darkness settled over the earth, the sounds of humanity winding down, the rustling of blankets, the soft words of mothers to children, the lively sound of gambling dens opening for business. Perhaps he would leave the old bench for one later. Humanity was its most interesting when taking a gamble. “Would you bet on it?” he asked, the timbre of his voice reverberating in the night air. The question surprised the young man, a thoughtful quiet taking over between them.

“...No, I wouldn’t, but I would hope,” he whispered. Issho turned his sightless gaze upon him. “Hope is fragile, young man,” he stated, placing his hand on the knife at his waist. The air became thick, hard to breathe as he bore the weight of his Being down upon them. The young man turned to stare at him, Issho could feel the fear in his heart, hear the trembling of his hands. “That’s what makes it worth fighting for,” he said after a moment. Issho blinked, then laughed. “What is your name, young man?” he asked as he took his hand away from his knife. 

“C-Coby, Sir,” he said, relief in his voice. Issho smiled. Coby. Not a bad name for the fourth Champion of Justice.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a companion art piece by @ChiakiHamano1 for this fic! It is FANTASTIC! Check it out [here](https://twitter.com/ChiakiHamano1/status/1305427068201496583)! As I said at the top, I wrote this for the prompt Monster || Magic/Mythology AU for One Piece Admirals Week 2020. I had so much fun writing it, it isn't something I would normally write so it was awesome to get to flex my writing skills! If you want to join in on the fun and write something for Admirals Week, just post it to the same collection this fic is a part of.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and you can find me on twitter @buggyisbest


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